


Just Like You

by Ambrosia_Ragweed



Series: Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold [1]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blutbad woges, Frottage, M/M, Nick is raised by a Grimm, Not Beta Read, Smut, Unexpected mating, Voodoo magic, sex and violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-27
Updated: 2012-07-27
Packaged: 2017-11-10 20:15:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/470229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambrosia_Ragweed/pseuds/Ambrosia_Ragweed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Nick's parents die in the auto crash, he is raised by his uncle who happens to be a Grimm. He meets Monroe when he is still running with Angelina.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Like You

Nick fingered the gris-gris bag hanging around his neck, letting the faint tingling of its power spark along his tips. Three years ago, his Uncle Terry had bought it off a beautiful Haitian Voodoo priestess in Miami as a high school graduation present. “It’s for protection,” he said, “Make sure you wear it.” His blue eyes had been shadowed with emotions, “Be good, boy.”

He pulled the beat up old Ford truck complete with a camper into the motel apartment he was staying at. The single story building was built in a long exaggerated sideways “L” shape. He was so used to crappy ass digs he didn’t even notice the dirty carpet with cigarette stains and the rip in the armchair’s upholstery. Yeah, there was cable but there were also roaches. 

A beautiful, long legged woman slammed out of the apartment diagonally across from his. She scowled, showing teeth, and climbed into a white truck unbelievably older t han the Ford. Nick snorted. Give that truck a few years and it would be an actual antique, the type people fixed up and drove around parades in. 

A broad shouldered, bearded man stood framed in the room’s doorway. His curling hair was tousled and there was something about him that made Nick stare longer than he should. He was far enough away that Nick couldn’t make out the color of his eyes; somehow that bothered him. But he shrugged it off. The man didn’t say anything, just gave Nick the once over, went back inside and closed the door behind him.

Back in his room, Nick hunted Blutbad. He spread newspaper clippings about animal attacks and missing people on the old square table. The details were pretty gruesome but he was sure that he was looking for at least two, maybe three, of the creatures. Blutbad were worse in pairs or packs. Nick scowled. If he was smart, he’d call in his Uncle. But then he’d be reminded, again, about how he should be better at monster hunting then he was.

His stomach growled. He ignored it. He was used to being hungry, to going without sleep, being alone, working shit jobs and never really having enough of anything. He tried to shove aside the anger and the resentment but it was always there, fermenting.

He never would’ve chosen to be a Grimm. It was genetic defect as far as he was concerned. 

Four months ago, he was studying psychology at the University of Pennsylvania and dreaming of being a criminal profiler for the FBI, now he was a vigilante Grimm hunting the worst of the worst when it came to Wesen. The funny thing was he’d been raised to do this job.

When his parents died in the car crash, his Uncle Terrence Westermann became his legal guardian. For two years, they’d lived in Jacksonville, Florida, in a half way decent apartment but then something happened and they moved on. His uncle pulled him out of school and never put him back in and being homeschooled by your ex cop, former Navy Seal Uncle meant you did your homework or had to deal with the consequences. The terrified kid Nick had been, moving every so many months, his uncle coming home covered in something that looked like it could be blood, was convinced that the older man was schizophrenic or some other diagnosis that required serious medication. But now Nick knew Uncle Terry wasn’t bat shit crazy. 

His stomach growled again, this time louder. He didn’t need to be hungry tonight; he had money in his wallet from stocking shelves at the local big chain store. So he ordered a pizza with everything on it and, in about twenty minutes, left to go fetch dinner.

In the parking lot, the old white truck was back. 

His truck’s engine refused to turn over. He cursed, popped the hood and climbed out of the cab. He cleaned off the corrosion covering the connectors to the battery but he was pretty sure it was the alternator. 

The dark haired man from earlier was unlocking his truck. 

“Hey,” Nick approached. “My truck is dead. Do you think you can give me a jump?” 

First, the other man looked around and then realizing Nick was talking to him. Hesitated before answering, “Yeah, I guess so.”

The jump failed to resurrect the Ford. 

“I knew it. Fucking, alternator.” Frustrated, Nick ran his fingers through his hair. 

“You need a ride to the auto parts store, don’t you?”

“Do you mind.”

“Yeah. But I’m not going to leave you hanging. Come on.” 

Monroe, Nick learned his savior’s name, tried to make small talk by talking about the history of the assembly line. Nick made “I’m interested in what you’re saying” noises and asked questions occasionally because it was easier than having to answer any questions the other man might ask. But mainly he stared at the large hands on the steering wheel thinking how different they were than his own. He desperately tried to ignore the fact that his heart was beating a little faster than normal, his palms tingling and he felt a breathless attraction that made him uneasy. He was unsure what to do about it. Had no idea if what he was feeling was reciprocated. 

They get the alternator and a new battery, spending the little money Nick had managed to save up. Then stop by the pizza place. 

“Dude, you know what goes well with pizza? Beer.” Monroe says.

So, they pick up beer and head back to the motel. Monroe is good with engines and manages to make changing the old out for the new look easy. Monroe tells him how his girl ran off with some other guy but would probably be back, because it’s not like she hasn’t done this a hundred times before. Nick laughs and says that he’s glad to be single when he hears shit like that.He invites Monroe over to his place to eat the pizza, it is, he justifies to himself, the polite thing to do.  _ This is wrong _ , a voice screamed inside Nick’s head and, normally, he trusted his instincts but tonight he told them to fuck off. He was pretty sure that voice was coming from internalizing his Uncle’s gay bashing homophobia.

Back in his room, Nick was glad he cleaned up before picking up dinner. He made small talk, occasionally flashing Monroe the smile that had gotten him into Jessica Tompkins’ pants when he was sixteen. He set the pizza on the table and grabbed two of the three plates he owned from where they were stacked by the microwave. They were vintage 1970s thrift store finds with a floral pattern in maize, brown and avocado. _Classy._ He thought but then remembered the truck so maybe Monroe liked old things.

Monroe handed Nick a can of the Beast and opened his own. He sipped the foam off, his eyes entirely focused on Nick. 

They finished the pizza and still had half a six pack left. Nick was pretty sure he knew why Monroe was there and kept waiting for him to make the first move. But the other man never did. So, Nick emptied his beer and haltingly took a step in his direction. 

“Take your shirt off,” Monroe growled and there’s no denying where this is going. 

Nick shivered as he slowly dragged the black tee up and over his head. 

Moving quickly, Monroe grabbed him by the hips and pulled him in close, burying his nose in the side of Nick’s neck and breathing in deep. Nick smelled of Mountain Fresh Dial soap, cheap laundry detergent, anti-dandruff shampoo and man. He has a hard time keeping the wolf down. The wolf wants this man. He wants his scent all over the man’s body. _This is a hook up._ He mentally reminds himself. He was horny and fighting with Angelina again. He drags his face up until he can nuzzle Nick’s ear. “Have you done this before?”

“Yeah but not with a guy,” Nick answers honestly. He has a hand buried in Monroe’s hair and the other one has slid under the back of his sand colored Henley, running over thickly corded muscles. He likes that the other man is taller than he is, likes how it feels to lean against narrow hips and a chest without breasts and the way large hands hold him.

For some reason, his almost virginity, makes Monroe very happy so he roughly nips the lobe, liking how Nick straightens from the quick stab of pain and then leaned in for more; he sucked it better. He trails light butterfly kisses down the curve of Nick’s jaw and finds his mouth. He gently kisses Nick who presses back harder but Monroe retreats and kisses the tip of his nose. Nick makes a frustrated noise. So, he returns to Nick’s mouth and kisses him harder before lightly biting his bottom lip. Then his tongue is in Nick’s mouth. 

Their tongue’s tangle and stroke each other. Monroe’s hands slide beneath the waistband of Nick’s jeans and caress his ass through thin cotton boxers, liking how Nick’s body tensed and leaned closer when his fingers moved closer to his whole. 

Monroe broke the kiss. “Take my shirt off.”

Nick leaned down to gently tugged the Henley up, he slowly kissed and sprinkled love bites up every inch of freshly revealed skin until he was pulling it up over Monroe’s head. 

Then they were falling to the bed, as their fingers worked to undo belts and unzip pants. Monroe grabs Nick’s hands and he pins them lightly above his head; he is aware that Nick is letting him. The wolf likes Nick’s strength and his submission; by the way that Nick is tenting his boxers Nick likes it as well. “Don’t move.” Monroe releases his hands to yank down Nick’s black jeans, taking the boxers with them. Nick’s long thin dick is flushed purple and stand at attention. Monroe smells the precome before he sees it beading on the head. 

He’s so excited that it’s impossible to keep the wolf down.  He woges.

Nick stiffens. There is a Blutbad in his room. He’s afraid and the fear acts as a aphrodisiac. 

“What’s wrong?” Monroe half growls, half asks.

“Nothing. I thought you were going to blow me.” Nick lies with the truth. He had thought Monroe was going to take his dick in his mouth and suck him off right before he morphed into a monster. But, God, he can’t think of that now. He reaches underneath his pillow to the KA-BAR he keeps there. 

“You moved and you’re afraid.” He leers with his wolf face. “You’re a Grimm. I should kill you.”

“You should.” Nick agrees his fingers wrapping around the KA-BAR’s handle as he plots his escape. 

“But I’m not going to.” He pins Nick’s hands and forces his larger body between Nick’s legs which are still bound by the underwear and jeans pooled around his ankles. Nick struggles but Monroe is stronger and, besides, Monroe can tell that Nick isn’t putting everything he has into it. He licks along Nick’s sternum and grinds against the Grimm’s cock liking how he hisses then moans. So he does it again, this time biting Nick’s collar bone. “I’m going to make you come, Nick, and then I’m going to fuck you.” He moved and licked. “Hard.” Nipped. “And you’re going to beg me to do it.” 

Nick writhes, moaning when his cock brushes again Monroe’s bare skin. He tries the move again but Monroe stops him.

“Be good.” Monroe licks at the column of his throat. “Kiss me.”

Nick considers refusing but he needs to distract Monroe to get free. He turns his head and seeks out Monroe’s mouth. Then he is fucking Monroe’s mouth with his tongue and it feels so good, even though it shouldn’t with all the sharp teeth. He likes the small twinges of pain when his tongue drags over them. He likes the soft feel of Monroe’s whiskers against his skin. Then Monroe is moving, rewarding him for following directions. And Jesus H Christ it feels good. So good. He can’t think. His brain has yielded all control to his dick. Then he remembers how the Blutbad said he was going to fuck him, his dick twitches and he comes, moaning Monroe’s name. 

He watches the Blutbad inhale, his nostrils flaring, and, even though he just came, it turns him on so bad something inside aches. Monroe moves forward and changes positions until his knees are in Nick’s armpits as he straddles his chest. 

He leans down until his torso is a few inches from Nick’s face. “Clean me off.” 

Nick hesitates and then remembers that he is trying to distract Monroe, although he suspects that he’s lying to himself. He arches his neck and leans forward; he licks up a glistening rope of cum. It tastes like sea water and musk. But its hard to keep his neck up like that so his head falls back. He leans forward again, licks. Falls back. Up. Licks. He enjoys the growling, moaning noises the Blutbad makes. Even though he’s pinned and spent, he feels impossibly powerful. Then the moment comes that he’s been waiting for, Monroe releases the hold of his right hand and lessens his grip on the left under the pillow as he pushes his underwear down and pulls his raging hard on out. The flushed cock is a little shorter but thicker than his own. The head glistens with precome. Nick knows he going to tell him to suck it, his mouth waters hungrily. _God he has to get laid more often,_ he thinks as he pulls out the KA-BAR.

That’s when all hell breaks loose. He breaks free, pushing Monroe off of him, over to the side and slashing at his neck. Monroe blocks with a clawed hand and attacks with another, swiping at his exposed belly. Then there is blood everywhere. 

“What the fuck, Nick!” Monroe is breathing heavy and something like dust is tickeling his nose. That’s when he realized that somehow in the confrontation Nick’s gris-gris bag was cut open. Particles of dust, magic and other things fill the air, seeping into their wounds. Monroe feels the magic entering his blood stream and it scares him almost as bad as seeing the red blood coating his lover’s stomach. The wolf snarls wanting to attack something.Nick has a hand draped over his stomach and reaches under the bed to pull out a Doppelarmbrust. The small crossbow was already armed with both its bolts. 

“Don’t move.” Nick orders. He climbs off the bed. “Don’t make me pull the trigger.” One handed, he struggles to pull up his boxers, then his pants, and still keep the crossbow pointed in Monroe’s direction.

“Those things were specifically designed to kill Blutbad.”

“Yeah, I know.” 

The room smells deliciously of sex and blood to the wolf even though the thought bothers the human side.Monroe can see that Nick’s arm is shaking. _He’s losing too much blood,_ he worries, completely forgetting where Nick nicked him with the knife. His blood has slowed to a quiet trickle. 

Nick reaches down and grabs a shirt off the floor. It’s Monroe’s. He somehow manages to get it on and not drop his weapon. The room starts spinning. 

Monroe notices that the Grimm is weakening. _The cotton material of the shirt will act as a wick, soaking up the blood, causing him to bleed more. The Grimm can’t die._ Both his wolf and human instincts are in agreement on that.

One handed, Nick pulls out a navy duffel bag and opens a drawer. He shoves the few things he bothered to unpack into the bag, knowing that most everything else he needs is in the camper. He’s clumsy and fumbling but he somehow manages. “This is over. I hope we never meet again.” He stumbles and the Blutbad is across the room faster than he can blink, holding him up against his hard chest. 

“I think we need to get you to the hospital.” Monroe sets him down in a chair. He struggles into Nick’s black tee which stretches taunt across his chest and is a little short on him. He gets the other man into his truck and drives to the hospital, even half carrying him to the doors of the emergency room. “Think you can make it inside on your own?”

Nick nods, “Kiss me.”

They know that this is good bye. So, Monroe makes it gentle and sweet because he wants the Grimm to remember the night like that, not with blood and pain. 

Sheer force of will carries Nick into the ER. “Hey, I need help,” He says to the woman manning the desk who asks him to wait his turn. He passes out.

The Blutbad makes his way by foot back to the Grimm’s room to clean up as best he can; he doesn’t want the night manager or whoever comes in next to think there’s been a murder which is a hilarious considering what Monroe really is. He’s already thrown the bedding in the dumpster, thankfully only a small amount of blood seeped into the mattress, when he finds the folder. Newspaper clippings float out and haphazardly cover the grimy sky blue carpet. Picking one up, he reads it, and then grabs another, reads that one, he’s almost hyperventilating by the third. 

Angelina appears in the doorway. “Found you.” She says. “Looks like you had some fun.”

“There was a Grimm.” Monroe answers, carefully replacing the clippings in the folder. “He was hunting us.”

“Smells like you fucked him before you killed him.” She’s laughing but he can tell she’s aggravated. “Too bad you didn’t invite me to play. I bet it was fun.” 

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This work is dedicated to Mikey who will never read it and, because of that, named after a Ministry song. Where ever you are Mikey, I love you. Best of everything.
> 
> 2\. This is part of a series, so the end is more like a pause between first meeting and second. 
> 
> 3\. I finished this a while ago but am still not sure what I think of it. I wrote it for myself, and have been going back in forth on the whole publishing it. I wrote it playing with quick change POVs and things so it was fun but the next installment will probably be more my normal style. 
> 
> 4\. I thought the situation required a grittier, darker, more cynical Nick so hopefully I kept the essence of his character so he is still recognizable. Same with Monroe. 
> 
> 5\. I appreciate all comments/criticisms/complete randomness.
> 
> 6\. I do not own Grimm or it's characters. I just play with them.


End file.
